


A Little Longer

by printers_devil



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bath Sex, Breast Fucking, Come Eating, Cuckolding, Dirty Talk, F/M, Feral Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Small Penis, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24706054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/printers_devil/pseuds/printers_devil
Summary: Hilda, the most reluctant Blue Lion, takes charge of Dimitri. Someone has to.Or: The one where Hilda makes fun of Dimitri’s tiny dick.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 15
Kudos: 80
Collections: Bottomitri Weekend, Horny Void





	A Little Longer

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I managed to write an actual PWP! This just sort of happened, yo. Find a need, fill a need (unless you’re this Dimitri, in which case you’re not filling anything). There's mention of Hilda/Sylvain in this fic, but it doesn't show up onscreen, so I'm not tagging it.

So. When Claude said "get in good with the crowd at the monastery," "keep an eye on the rebellion's leadership," and "send back regular reports on Kingdom troop movements," he probably hadn't meant Hilda to go about it quite like this. 

Her old Blue Lions classmates were pathetically trusting. Ingratiating herself with older, wiser heads hadn't been a problem: House Goneril had a lot of money and a lot of sympathy for Faerghus's struggles. Getting letters back to Derdriu wasn't a problem, either; the Kingdom's forces were such a shambles, and their leadership was completely focused on the Empire as a threat. The thought that little old Hilda might be a spy for Duke Riegan never crossed anyone's mind. 

The problem was Prince Dimitri. Claude's plan working depended on Faerghus having a strong leader able to both mount a coordinated response to Adrestian aggression—and to be a figurehead charismatic enough to make the Alliance's lords agree to hand over all the keys to their respective castles, and treasuries. Mostly the treasuries. Hilda understood this perfectly, being from a border house. War was expensive.

Dimitri was not that leader. He was a mess. No one who'd known Dimitri before he was like this had the guts to take him in hand. Hilda took great pains to avoid thinking of herself as brave, but someone had to do it.

Her first order of business had been to make Dimitri eat something, which hadn't been too hard. The big guy from Duscur was presumed dead. In the parts of Dimitri's brain that weren't completely devoted to "murder Edelgard" and "raze Enbarr to the ground," he probably missed having someone to follow him around, just, constantly. He'd stopped going into detail about how he was going to pull Hilda's head off—or whatever—after the third time she'd nagged him. After that, he'd just gone along with what she wanted him to do. 

Sometimes, doing a little more work up front meant you had to do a lot less work later.

Once she'd him into the habit of eating actual meals, sitting down in the dining hall around other people and everything, she pushed him into more things: getting out of that armor and wearing normal clothes. Practicing field maneuvers. Everyone seemed very grateful for this, and "Dimitri stuff!" was an excuse that got her out of nearly anything.

Therefore, on a morning Hilda did not feel like doing greenhouse duty, she dragged Dimitri to the bathhouse, chattering the whole way. He didn't protest. It was sort of like talking to big, handsome wall, but Hilda was kind of into that.

At this time of the morning, the long rows of deep tubs were completely deserted. Dimitri turned around to get out of his armor, and Hilda sat on one of the benches to admire the view. 

Tall, big shoulders, strong arms, lean hips, a little dumb. Exactly the kind of guy she'd sleep with and then never, ever even consider bringing home to meet Holst. Dimitri wasn't even bad in the face area. It was a shame about the whole murder thing, but he'd get over that, probably. 

Then Dimitri turned around to get into the tub, heedless of the fact that she was still there. She tried to be virtuous, she really did, but one little peek couldn't hurt. 

Dimitri's dick was tiny.

Hilda couldn't help it. She covered her mouth to hide her snort, but not soon enough. 

Dimitri's head snapped up. She thought, Well, it's been a good run, Hilda!—but he didn't look angry, probably for the first time since she'd come back to the monastery.

"You're laughing," Dimitri said.

"Uh, I was coughing," Hilda replied. "Obviously."

"Do it again."

She didn't usually like them bossy, but Dimitri's tone was very commanding. It might have even worked on her if she cared about his orders, but the Alliance recognized no king. For now, at least. Claude just had to convince Auntie Judith to go along with his wild plan, and he was almost there. Honestly, Claude had the easier job.

"Why should I?" Hilda said, stretching her arms out over her head and leaning back on the bench. "Just take a bath and get it over with, I've got greenhouse duty in an hour."

Meeting her eyes the whole time, Dimitri took his thumb and his forefinger and stroked his cock slowly. As Hilda watched, it grew, but it probably wasn't any longer than her longest finger. It was thick enough, though, if she absolutely had to say something nice about it. 

"Do it," Dimitri said again, playing with himself.

"You want me to laugh at... that." 

Hilda looked from his handsome face to his tiny dick, then back up. For putting up this, and with all these earnest weirdos from Faerghus talking nonstop about chivalry, duty, and their horses, she deserved to be named the fifth Saint. She deserved a statue, and a holiday, too. 

She sighed: "Wash up first and I'll consider it."

He sank down into the bathtub to his shoulders and winced at the heat of the water. When he'd adjusted, he looked expectantly up at her, and, all right, there was enough room in it for three people. 

Hilda could not think of a single reason why she shouldn't join him. She'd trained first thing morning, a little. Sylvain was good enough with an axe to hold his own against her—barely—but he was pretty skilled with his lance, too, and she'd been a lot more interested in that. She'd almost spent all day napping in his bed when they were finished, but then she'd remembered she had "other obligations" and that she had to "prove herself" to the Kingdom army. 

So here Hilda was, pulling her clothes off and tossing them over the bench, and dipping a toe into the water. It had cooled down enough to be tolerable, and she slipped into the tub, settling back against Dimitri's broad, scarred chest. 

His arms came around her, as inhumanly strong as she'd expected. It didn't bother her. He wasn't the only one here with a Crest: it wasn't constant exercise that let her swing Freikugel around. 

For now, she didn't mind him being pushy and weird. The water was nice, Dimitri was groping at her breasts with his big hands and playing with her nipples just the way she liked, and maybe she could get out of weeding duty by foisting it off on Annette and running away from whatever disaster Annette would make of it. 

"Like that," Hilda said when Dimitri squeezed and kneaded both of them at the same time, his rough palms catching on her delicate skin. "That feels good, yeah." She let her head fall back against his shoulder and relaxed into him. If touching a boob would restore Dimitri to sanity, it would save Fódlan a lot of problems, and Hilda would get her half of the plan done with plenty of time left to goof off. 

As his hands roamed her body, that option looked better and better. On the off chance that it didn't work, she had plan A, which was "bully him into taking care of himself and maybe talking through what his issue with Edelgard really was." 

The only hitch in the plan was the tiny erection poking at her lower back. He rubbed himself against her, and it felt like he was poking her with his thumb. He'd wanted her to laugh at him. At that. 

Se reached for the bar of soap and turned around to scrub him down. He submitted wordlessly to her manipulating his body. She raised his arms to give his armpits a good scrub, taking her time on his biceps. His chest was covered in light golden hair, hardly visible in the low light of the bathhouse, and she ran her hands through it for a lot longer than was strictly required to get him clean. 

When she was finished—okay—groping him, she dumped a bucket of water over his head. rubbed his scalp, carefully working the tangles out of his hair. He glared up at her when she had to work, but he did not complain. 

Every once in a while, he distracted her by pulling her up, taking one of her breasts in his mouth and teasing her until she caught herself grinding against his leg. Somewhere in between all the slaughtering Imperial generals and sleeping in trash heaps he must have had sex at least once, because the cute, bashful prince Hilda had met five years ago could not have looked at a naked person without having the vapors. 

She was here to do a job. She was here to secure the Alliance's future in a united Fódlan. That meant she had to wash the rest of his body, she supposed, no matter that she wanted to sit herself on the edge of the tub and tell him to get her off. 

"Stand up," Hilda said, settling back in the bathtub. She had just enough magic to heat the water back to a comfortable temperature again, so she did that. 

Dimitri rose at her order, the water sluicing off of his torso. It was mesmerizing. His thighs were incredible, too; he looked like the anatomy diagram in a healing lesson. Hilda lathered up her hands with the bar of soap and ran them up and down the fronts and backs of his legs, over his firm ass, delving into his crack to get him clean there. He flinched a mile when she did it, and she filed that reaction away for later. She'd brought a few trinkets from home along with her, but no one here was interesting enough for her to use them on. Yet. 

His cock was level with her face. Hilda ignored it for as long as she could, but she ran a soapy hand over what passed for his length. If he wanted her to be mean, she could be mean: whatever got him paying attention to her, and not whatever he did with the time she wasn't standing over him nagging him about his disgusting cloak. When she was done with this, she would never be caught dead in fur again. She cleaned him completely between his legs, then looked up at him. She tried for a giggle, but it didn't sound convincing to her ears. 

"Ugh, that's pathetic. Could you even get it inside of me?" she asked, glaring down at his cock. She'd been mean to one or two people during sex, she sort of knew what she was doing here—Marianne had liked it, all those years ago. "You're supposed to be the King of Faerghus? With a dick like that?" 

She grasped it like Dimitri had before, with just two fingertips, and gave it an experimental tug. It remained unimpressive. Over her head, far over her head, Dimitri made a sound like he was being choked. 

"I fucked a real man this morning," she went on, encouraged by his reaction, which was probably good. "Somebody who could fill me all the way up. This thing?" Hilda gave it a shake, and it probably hurt, and she found she really enjoyed watching the way his thighs visibly tensed. "This thing could never make me come like he did." 

She looked up at him to see how he was taking it, and lo and behold, he stared down at her with his lips parted. . 

Inspired, Hilda let it go and leaned back against the edge of the tub.

"I don't see why I should even touch that. It's a waste of my time," she continued. "It doesn't deserve to go inside of me. Not my mouth, not my pussy... come here." Dimitri stepped forward in the bathtub, causing a little bit of water to slop onto the floor. That was someone else's problem. He was practically vibrating with anticipation, and Hilda squeezed one of her own breasts, drawing her finger in a circle around her nipple while Dimitri stared at her. She hadn't wanted to get turned on by this, but there was just something about making fun of a guy who could snap her neck like a quill that was doing it for her. When this was over, Sylvain was getting round two for sure. 

Hilda pulled her hair out of its tight ponytail. It was time to get comfortable. "Jerk that thing off for me, I don't feel like it." 

Her hair had spilled over her shoulders, and Dimitri reached down to run strands of it through his fingers while he stroked his little cock. She let him do it, if that was what got him off; he wasn't messing it up, and it felt kind of nice. 

"Don't come until I say," Hilda said, watching him. "Only real men get to come whenever they want. In fact, I'm going to go find one right after we're done. You know who it is, don't you? It's Sylvain. I'm going to let him hang my head off the edge of the bed and fuck my throat with his huge dick."

At that, Dimitri winced. His grip on himself, such as it was, tightened, and he looked feverish. That was encouraging. She could work with this. 

"Maybe I'll let you watch sometime," she added. "Maybe you can sit there and have Sylvain show you how it's really done. Maybe I'll tell him to fuck you when we're finished. He's amazing." 

Unfortunately this was true. Sylvain's dick was exactly big enough and his technique exactly good enough to almost make up for his horrible personality. There was another one she'd never bring home to Holst. 

"Hilda," Dimitri groaned, working himself in front of her face. The sound was drawn-out, animal, and Hilda's heart pounded in response. Under the water, she tried touching herself—it wasn't satisfying. The hot water didn't let her stay wet. 

"Let me come," he was saying. "Let me come, please...." 

She was playing the long game, or trying to. She didn't really want to be mean to him. 

"You're doing such a good job, Dimitri! You did what you were told. That little training spear is not ever going inside me, but I'll let you can put it here." 

Hilda squeezed her breasts together and nodded down at them. 

She didn't need to tell him twice. He knocked her hands aside and pressed her tits together himself, fucking them with short, fast bucks of his hips. To her, it didn't feel like much of anything, but his head was thrown back in ecstasy. Hilda raked her hands in slow sweeps up the back of his thighs, over his ass, pressing her forefinger to his tight hole and feeling his thrusts stutter when she played with it. 

When he came on her, it was a tiny little load that came out in two thick spurts. Then it was over. That was it. It was almost cute, the way his eye flew open in distress when he realized what he'd done. 

"Oh, gross," Hilda said, looking down at her chest. "And you did it without my permission. Clean me up." 

Dimitri reached for the bar of soap. 

"No, with your mouth," she amended. 

Without a second's hesitation, he sank to his knees in the water, put his mouth to the valley between her tits, and ate his come off of her. He was so enthusiastic. He looked up at her for approval when he was finished, his one blue eye wide and hungry. Hilda stroked his hair with both hands, smiling benevolently down at him. "You did so well," she said, running a finger over one of his heavy cheekbones, the straight line of his nose, his dry, cracked lips. 

Dimitri nodded. In the cooling water, he settled his head against her chest, and now they were cuddling, or something. His breathing was labored against her, but it slowed and evened eventually. Now she had a moment alone with her own thoughts, a moment to think: _Whoa, that was actually really hot._

Having learned something new about herself, she looked down at him, at his thick blonde hair, at his big hands. His dick may have been tiny, but his fingers were long and thick. She could work with those.

"You know what, I changed my mind," Hilda said. Impatiently, she shook herself free of his grasp and stood up in the water, then bent over and held onto the side of the tub. She reached behind her with one hand, spreading her pussy wide, and Dimitri made another one of those being-strangled noises. "If you don't make me come, I'm never doing this again."

And he did. Wherever, however he'd learned to do this, she thanked the Goddess for it, because he devoured her from behind like it was worship. He licked her out and sucked her clit with equal enthusiasm. By the time he got three of his thick fingers into her, Hilda's arms gave out, and he held her up with no effort at all.

Greenhouse duty could wait. Claude's plans… well, Hilda was advancing them, kind of. She came suddenly, violently around Dimitri's fingers, and she hung there half out of the bathtub until he pulled her back in.

"Was I better than Sylvain?" he asked.

His voice was rough with disuse. He even looked smug—okay, as if he hadn't just licked his own come off of her like it was the last dessert in all of Fódlan. That was a pleasant change, and Hilda didn't have it in her to be annoyed, anyway. She even settled back into his arms when he held them out to her. All things considered, he was pretty snuggly for a guy you could find on the battlefield by following the trail of dismembered Imperial soldiers.

"Yeah, sure," Hilda said, patting his forearm, which was all she could reach. "You know what? I think I'll skip greenhouse duty today. And, hey, if you make me come like that again in a little while, maybe I'll let you rub yourself off on my pussy. Deal?" 

After way more consideration than her offer really warranted, in her opinion, Dimitri agreed to her terms.

She was going to tell Claude _all_ about this, Hilda thought as she drifted off to sleep in Dimitri's arms. Never mind bringing Sylvain into this. Sylvain could be so boring about this kind of thing. (She was definitely still going to bring Sylvain into it.) Claude could visit the monastery and join them, once their plans came to fruition—Claude was so much meaner than her, he'd do a much better job at this—results were results, after all, and they had a war to win.


End file.
